


benedictio

by GreyPezzola



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyPezzola/pseuds/GreyPezzola
Summary: “Is this how you became family to Hawke and Brosca?”  Cadash asks."I have been known to care a little too much.”  Bodahn says with a smile, "Everyone starts off as a stranger, doesn't mean they can't become family."





	benedictio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/gifts).



> Got the prompt: "I really missed seeing Bodhan and Sandal in DA:I, and the tiny glimpse we got in Trespasser was more tantalizing than anything. Where were they? What were they up to? How did they end up in the library? Show me something of their adventures. I'd prefer to believe that they have survived and we might see them again, but otherwise go wild."
> 
> I haven't actually finished DA:I, so I can't speak to the library, but I have very distinct feelings about how this family would continue to live quite happily.

Her hand throbs when she knocks on the door of the modest home she’s been directed to. Not the one that connected sharply with the worn wood, but the other one. The one that— it is still overwhelming at times to remember it is gone. Especially because she can feel phantom itches and pains. Like now when her— the door opens.

“Oh, you must be Lady Cadash. We’ve been expecting you!” says the dwarven man at the door. He’s a little shorter than her, back bent with age, and his face is a mass of wrinkles. He smiles at her so warmly, each line of his face crinkling, that she is a bit taken aback.

“You’re just going to let me in?” she asks, skeptically. “I could be a crow or someone else.”

He looks thoughtful for half a second, an exaggerated expression that is clearly more for show than actual concern. “Oh well, I suppose. But I always assumed having some fancy title came with a little lasting wealth. Unless your recent profession change has left you penniless, in which case, you’re probably in need of a bit of kindness.”

He stands to the side so she can cross the threshold, “Can I take your cloak? I’m Bodahn, you must be here to see my son. Varric and Leliana said you might come by. Even if you aren’t Lady Cadash, it’s nice to see another dwarf. Aren’t a lot around here.” He speaks like he is used to holding a conversation mostly one-sided, barrelling through where natural pauses would be.

“Yes, they said you son could help with… with…” she still can’t say it.

“The pain, dear?” he finished for her. His tone is kind and Cadash completely unsure what to make of this man. “I’ll go get my boy. You make yourself at home.”

Then he leaves for another room and Cadash is left to ‘make herself at home’. She doesn’t, years of being Carta and then the Inquisitor has left her a more than a little wary. She explores the room as quietly as the can. The home’s interior is just as modest as the exterior. She’s been left in a small common room and she can see an equally small kitchen through the fireplace.

While the furnishings are worn and have clearly seen a lot, she notices a few things around the room that hints at this family’s connections. There is a painting of an exceptionally pretty human woman that is at least fifty years old. In a similar place of honor, also hung on the wall, is a letter written in blocky handwriting. On the bottom of the letter, two small feet have been stamped on with ink. There is also what looks like a dragon’s talon sitting on the mantle of the fireplace with similar keepsakes.

These odds and ends clearly aren’t clutter, but she doesn’t have time to look through them all because she hears Bodahn coming back. “She’s a friend of Leliana and Varric, so—”

“Enchantment!” a younger sounding voice says.

“Exactly, my boy.” Cadash can hear his smile even from a room away. Then they both enter the room. Sandal older than her with large eyes and a quizzical expression. She gets the feeling it isn’t that he’s cleanly shaven like Varric but more than he doesn’t grow facial hair. They both look at each other for a few seconds, she’s sure she’s a bit to take in as well. What with her arm, the scars, and the large burn on her cheek and neck.

“Hello,” she says, not really sure what else to say. He blinks at her a few times.

He raises both hands to his chest, shakes them a few times, and then starts signing. Her sign is rusty, not many folks used it in the inquisition and the only sign dialect she knows is the bastardized Carta dialect, but she is able to get the gist of it before Bodahn translates.

“Why no eye contact?” she asks, more sharply than she had meant to.

“He is usually alright with eye contact, but it’s hard for my son to do both eye contact and touch with other people. Especially strangers, no offense to you my dear.” Bodahn explains, his hands signing along as he speaks. Sandal watches his father’s hands as he talks and then looks up to glance at her.

He signs again, this time the words go past her Carta training, but she recognizes the sign for explosion. “If it’s alright with you, he’s going to touch your arm now.”

Cadash tries, she tries to relax enough to let this man touch the stump. She holds out the end of it where it is hidden in her sleeve, pulls up the cloth, but then there is the scarring, the red and green marks that brand her skin. Sandal reaches out, it doesn’t matter if he’s asked her not to make eye contact, she isn’t seeing Sandal. She’s seeing him. She can’t look away at the hand that reaches for her hand, the one that should be there, the one burns from the pain.

It should be there. She can feel it right there.

Cadash jerks away from them, pulling the sleeve back down, trying to pull air into her lungs. “Easy, love, easy.” Bodahn is saying and she realizes vaguely he’s speaking to her. “May I touch your shoulder?”

She shakes her head. She can’t, she doesn’t want their pity, she wants her arm back.

“Enchantment?” Sandal says and his father nods.

“Tea would probably work wonders.” He says and Sandal leaves. “Why don’t you sit down while we get you tea. Take your time.”

“I’m sorry.” Cadash manages to gasp out as she collapses in the chair that he gestures to.

“Don’t be. Marian was quite the same after the fight with the Arishok.” He says before going to the small kitchen to make tea.

Cadash ends up spending the night; Bodahn insists. “We’ve got an extra room for guests. My daughter comes every so often with her husband and kids. It’s really no trouble.”

“You’re daughter?” she asks, as she helps him put together the bed. It’s hard with only one hand, but she can at least hold the blankets as he spreads them out.

“Leah! She’s a good girl, goes on too many adventures, but with the mess that the wardens have been, I can’t blame her,” he says.

“I can’t say I helped with that,” Cadash says softly.

“I wouldn’t know,” he takes another blanket from her. “They’re a secretive lot and we’ve been out here for a while.”

“May I ask why?” She asks.

“Safety. Just before Kirkwall, well, we went to Amaranthine to visit Leah and Zevran. Or more, my daughter heard from a fellow warden enough that she all but demanded I come stay with her. Stayed with her a while, but then Marion comes, looking more gaunt and haunted than a good girl like her should, says Anders blew up the chantry! Made a right mess of it all, that man did.”

He looks thoughtfully at Cadash and she shifts uncomfortably. She’s used to the scrutiny of others, but not the earnest searching that Bodahn uses. “What do you think? One more? It gets a bit cold here at night. Oh, let’s do two just in case. Anyways, my daughter and Marion decide is safer for me and my boy to come to the countryside where we aren’t known. Especially after Varric went missing. Not right to kidnap someone’s husband. Why it’s why Marion still—”

“Husband?”

“Yes.” Bodahn pauses while unfolding another blanket, “They’ve been married, what, ten years? I remember the ceremony, small thing, Leandra cried so hard she was so happy.”

“Hawke and Varric are married.” Cadash says slowly.

“Of course. They didn’t seem like marrying sorts, but there was a wager made as to who could do the most romantic gesture. They called it a truce after the wedding.” He smiles fondly at the memory.

“Bodahn, I don’t mean to sound rude, but why are you so open about their lives? With this information, who knows how many people would want you as a pawn or for blackmail.”

“I suppose. But I am only an old man with a son. I fear we are rather boring in passing. This is the most excitement we’ve had in a while.” he then turns and looks at the bed. It is practically drowning in a mismatch blankets and pillows. “Don’t let me talk your ear off with boring tales, why don’t you get some rest. Tomorrow will be here faster than you know it.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” she says and he waves it off.

“It’s our pleasure.” he smiles again, “Let me know if you need anything, my room’s just down the hall.”

Then Cadash is left alone in the room. She sits down on the bed and it groans under the combined weight of the blankets and her. “Come on, Avital, get ready for bed. Just don’t look at it.” Removing her boots with one hand is easier now than it used to be, but she knows she’s got to tie them again in the morning. The band that compresses her chest that Krem helped make for her means she doesn’t need someone to attend to her, but every time it catches on her stump. It’s the same every evening; it’s the same every morning.

“Avital, take my hand.” Cool fingers cutting through the blinding pain and equally blinding light, a moment of relief, “Live well, while time remains.”

She wakes up and her hand is still alight, the pain unbearable, but there is nothing but the darkness in this strange room. Cadash takes a few steadying breaths feeling the smooth fabric of the blanket she’s wrapped herself in and the rise and fall of her chest. When the pain flairs up again, she bites down on a pillow to muffle the whimper.

She doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.

The next morning, they try again. And again, she pulls away from Sandal who flaps his hands and has to leave the room. And again, Bodahn tells her to take the time she needs.

“I’m sorry,” she says when she can finally stop hyperventilating.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve helped someone with something like this. You’ll take the time you’ll need and we’ll be ready to give you that time.”

“Maybe I should come back later.” Cadash says, “After it’s had more time to… to…”

“It’s healed from what I can see, now I’m not an expert, but why don’t you give stay week. We’ve got a beautiful garden and some books, my boy has runes that help make the flowers stay in bloom and keeps the water in the bath warm.”

“I really don’t want to impose, it would be better—” he shakes his head at her words.

“A friend of Varric’s a friend of mine and you look like you could use a bit of rest if nothing else.” Bodahn seems firm in his welcome and with how little she’s slept she can justify waiting another day. So she stays, finds a book that looks interesting enough, and promptly falls asleep in her chair twelve pages in.

She snaps awake when someone says, “Enchantment!”, rather loudly. The book falls to the floor with a clatter and she goes for a dagger that isn’t on her person. Sandal is smiling at her and signing. When he’s done with his statement, he says, “Boom!”

He gestures for her to follow him. She hadn’t gotten all of his words across, but he seemed to be talking about lunch. Cadash gets up from her chair to follow him, rubbing the crick in her neck. She’s not as young as she used to be.

Sandal leads her outside to where the garden is in full bloom despite the fact that the season has shifted to fall. Bodahn is waiting at a stone table where lunch his laid out, soup, bread, some cheese, all she can easily eat with one hand.

“Thanks for getting her, son.” He says to Sandal who nods once and sits down. “Did you sleep well?”

“Enough. I, uh, didn’t sleep well last night,” she says hesitantly. Cadash holds up her hand, “I had enough blankets. I’m still adjusting.”

  
“Well, my boy has some runes for the pain here, you want to try one.” he gestures to a small collection of runes. These were perfectly smooth runes, unlike the ones Dagna made or the ones found while traveling, clearly made by an expert. “After lunch, I can help you put it in your sleeve, won’t touch you arm that way, but should help.”

The soup is hearty, the bread a little bit stale, but lunch passes smoothly. They chat, Sandal signing when he had something to contribute, and it isn’t as awkward as it could be. Still, she is curious. “Do you mind me asking, how did you learn to sign?”

“Leah. She was Carta before she was a warden or a hero, much like you. Oh, she did not like me much when we met. But, you can’t travel around Fereldan for a year and not get close.”

“You’d be surprised,” she says. It’s supposed to be to herself, but Bodahn is giving her a concerned look. She stammers, but can’t come up with anything to say.

“Well, I was grateful for the chance to get to know my daughter.” he continues carefully. “I wouldn’t have looked at her in Orzammar.”

“Oh.” is all she can see, she can feel a flush form.

“The hurt someone does to you doesn’t mean you weren’t close once,” Bodahn says.

Long thin fingers, a permanent ink stain on his ring finger on his left hand where he wrote. Sometimes there were paint splatters from late nights he spent painting murals from his cultures past. Both ink and paint had been missing when he’d taken the anchor.

There had been another set of hands, rough from the splitting of wood with hair on their knuckles. The wide fingers had moved like she had been something to behold and she had been, just for a moment, but they had been lovers fingers with liars palms.

“Lady Cadash?” Bodahn asks, pulling her out of her reverie, “Are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I… merely lost in thought.” The rest of the lunch passes pleasantly and she helps carry things into the modest kitchen.

Sandal flaps his hands and holds out a rune. “Enchantment?”

She looks at where here sleeve is pinned up against her stump. “Take the time you need,” Bodahn says, but she shakes her head.

Cadash takes the rune and slips it under her shirt, pushing it down her sleeve so it rests against her. The stone is cool against her arm and she waits for the pain to flare on a hand that is not there, but instead, there is a pleasant numbness. She holds her breath, she can do this, she tells herself.

She tugs on her sleeve, the rune falls to the floor, and she’s shaking again. Her arm hadn’t hurt, but it hadn’t been there. For once she couldn’t feel it and somehow that had been worse than the blinding pain. Tears are streaming down her face and all she can say is “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

A hand, small but wide, touches her shoulder very lightly, pulling away quickly. Through the fabric of her shirt, she can feel a lingering warmth, “Enchantment.”

She hiccups and looks up at him from where she’s collapsed. “What?”

“Take the time you need, I think is what he’s saying.” Sandal nods and picks up the rune.

He holds it out to her, “Enchantment.” She searches his face and then looks at his hand. Their fingers touch lightly as he gives the rune to her. His hands are warm and callused from his rune work, the pattern of them unfamiliar to any calluses she’s seen in a while. His hands are different.

They try slipping the rune into her shirt again in the evening and again the next morning. But within a few days, she can stand to have the rune sit in her sleeve for almost an hour. The pace is frustratingly slow; Bodahn tells her not to worry and to take her time, Sandal mostly says enchantment, and she is left with herself.

Cadash helps when she can, pulling weeds out of Sandal’s garden, going with Bodahn to the small market to buy food, and sweeping the floors. Bodahn is always appreciative and Sandal seems to enjoy the company. Their lives are mundane and she’s never really had mundane between the Carta and the Inquisition. It’s nice to stay up late and talk to them about things or listen to Bodahn read a book aloud. It’s nice to help Sandal in his garden and pick fresh flowers and apples. She still has nightmares of hands too cool and words too cruel, but it becomes easier to pick up a blanket or two and go sit in the common area until she can sleep again. Cadash wakes up one morning, curled up in the common room, another blanket having been placed on her. When she can’t help, she sleeps or reads or wanders. It becomes a routine that should be boring, helping in the mornings, napping in the afternoon, sitting by the fire and talking, but it’s nice.

However, she can’t stay.

“Sandal, do you think we could try again this evening?” she asks, holding a basket for him to put apples into.

He looks at her and smiles, “Enchantment.”

That evening she sits between Sandal and Bodahn. On a small table next to Sandal are tools, various strips of leather, a few buckles, and a handful of runes. She unpins her sleeve and rolls it up. The scarring is only brown in the fire light, not green and red, the skin still soft and new, but it’s there.

“Cadash, we’ve got you,” Bodahn says as she stares at the stump.

“Enchantment.” She nods at Sandal and then looks away. His hands are different, warm and callused, but they move efficiently. The touches aren’t soft and personal, but they are caring.

When panic tries to swell, an arm wraps around her shoulders, “You’re alright, dear. My boy and I, we’ve got you. It’s okay.”

And Bodahn repeats that “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” rubbing his thumb, broad and softer than his son’s against her shoulder.

She breathes.

“It’s okay,” Bodahn says again. “You’re going great.”

Cadash isn’t sure how much times passes, only that she eventually tucks her head into Bodahn’s shoulder. “Is this how you became family to Hawke and Brosca?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I’m a stranger.” her voice catches.

“Everyone starts off as one.” Bodahn says, “But I may not be the most clever man, but I have been known to care a little too much.”

“You cared your way into being friends of two important and controversial heroes.”

“I was hoping you’d say three, Lady Cadash.” his thumb stops moving and she looks up at him.

“Avital.” she says, “My name is Avital.” He smiles at her, his thumb continues to rub small circles on her shoulder.

Sometime later, Sandal breaks the silence by saying “Boom”. She looks down at her stump and a small harness is holding a rune to her skin. Her hand doesn’t itch, it doesn’t ache or burn, because it isn’t there. She can only feel the coolness of the rune against her skin and a wholeness she hasn’t felt in a while.

She doesn’t dream that night. The next day, Sandal explains, with help from his father, that the rune should help ease any lingering effects of the anchor and help with the healing. He’s made a few runes with different effects for her though and she watches carefully as he shows her how to change the runes. One is warm and soothes the ache in her shoulders and elbow, one doesn’t feel like anything at all, and the cool one that stops the itches and pains.

By the time the week is out, she’s ready to leave. Bodahn gets teary and she finds herself promising to write him and meaning it. Sandal flaps his hands and touches her lightly on the shoulder. There’s a world for her to help save and it’s not going to fix itself.

Her hand doesn’t throb when she knocks on the door of the modest home.

“Oh, Avital. What a pleasant surprise!” says Bodahn. He’s a little shorter than last time, back still bent with age, and his face still a mass of wrinkles. He smiles at her so warmly, each line of his face crinkling, and she smiles back. “It’s been awhile; come on in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience as I got this is in!! Hopefully it was worth the wait!
> 
> Also I have no idea how to summarize this...


End file.
